Diabetes Goes to the Inauguration

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In my early-on reveries about what I would do when I attended Barack Obama’s historic swearing in as the 44th President of the U.S., I was a standard-bearer for living well with diabetes.

In my best fantasy, I innocently and unexpectedly bumped into the new leader of the free world at a green-grocer’s near DuPont Circle. And while each of us, the now President Obama and me, sorted through a bin of organic Braeburns, looking for the best in the bunch, I used the opportunity tell The Man how important it was for him and the Surgeon General to launch a new national campaign to wipe out diabetes. He agreed and smiled that big smile. Together, we embraced this revolutionary change in attitude and intent.

In reality, however, and with both eyes wide open, I am approaching the trip to and from Washington next Tuesday for my first-ever Inauguration (as a Congressional ticket-holder, no less) with fears and trepidations that my fellow out-of-towners will not have to endure. Here are just a few:

• To be prepared for delays and disruptions of all sorts, and the fact that food kiosks will be closed and other basic services likely out of reach, I shall pack unsalted almonds, turkey jerky, string cheese, slices of whole wheat bread and apples—enough for 36 hours (just in case we miss our return train on Tuesday evening).

• For practical reasons, I must wear my Medic Alert bracelet (but first, I have to find it.) I will pack extra insulin-pump equipment and “emergency back-up,” which means syringes, alcohol wipes, insulin, as well as a blood meter, a “pricker,” lancets, and lots of strips.

• While millions of my fellow revelers will be either wiping away tears, applauding, shivering, or concentrating on the glories of the historic moment, I mostly will be obsessing. Obsessing—and worrying. Yes, I’ll be worrying if the frigid temperatures will freeze the insulin running through my catheter so that none gets through and, therefore, my diabetic goose (so to speak) is cooked. More concerns: Will the cold compromise the accuracy of the blood strips and/or the meter itself?

• I also will worry that my blood sugar will run high. And if it does, I will obsess about it. Because on the most historic Inauguration Day since the birth of our nation, I do not want the chief image that gets etched into my memory be of me muscling my way through the crowds on The Mall in order to reach a Port-A-Potty in time to urinate. And when my sugar runs high, I always have to Port-A-Potty.

• Then there’s the flip side: Will shivering in the legendary Washington cold bring on bouts of hypoglycemia? Will I be able to drink from the juice boxes that will be stored in my fanny pack? (Will I even be allowed to carry juice boxes in my fanny pack?)

• Now that I think of it, should I bring a note from my doctor (my internist husband could write one!), explaining that, as an insulin-dependent diabetic, I am required to carry syringes and other awful, pointy things—and would such a note have to be notarized?

• Will I be subjected to an excruciatingly long security search? Will my insulin pump set off any alarms? Will some overzealous guardian of the national good think that I’m some nut wired to blow up? Or will he totally freak out at the sight of it stuck into my belly like that and order a strip search? (Oh, Lord! Now, I am really worried!)

• If my husband and I miss our return train, which is scheduled to leave Union Station at 6:10 p.m., will there be room for us on a later one? Or will we have to spend the night in Union Station, where all the food kiosks will be shuttered until Wednesday morning?

• All of which brings me back to the almonds, the turkey jerky, the string cheese, the sliced bread and the apples. Providing that any of it is left, that is.